The Adventures of Trevor the Toad, Part I
by Nikademus
Summary: Trevor the Toad has given Neville Longbottom fits ever since their first day at Hogwarts. But there is more to this toad than just bulging eyes and warts.


Trevor the Toad crept along the dark corridor on the third floor, wishing he had stolen Harry Potter's invisibility cloak. Sadly, it was locked away in Potter's trunk; the boy finally caught on that it wasn't such a good idea to leave such a valuable magical garment lying around Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. How many times had he left it unattended? Two, maybe three times that Trevor was aware of. It was irresponsibility rivaled only by that demonstrated by Neville on a daily basis. Had it not been for the unappreciated efforts of Trevor, Neville would probably forget to bring his wand to class.   
  
One good thing about being a toad was the incredible field of vision. With his bulging eyes perched on top of his head, the toad was able to see everything that was going on around him. This was indeed fortunate because Mrs. Norris just came down the staircase behind him. Her eyes gleamed spookily in the half-light of the torches. She spied Trevor, and bounded toward him. The toad sprung into action, in three great leaps he reached Sir Dinadin's suit of armor. The little pads on his toes acted like suction cups (a gift from his great, great grandmother, who was a Brazilian tree frog) and he climbed with great agility, which was quite difficult because he held a scroll in his mouth. Mrs. Norris skidded to a halt at the feet of the armor, hissing with fury. Once again Trevor managed to elude her. The toad pushed the visor up and hid inside the great helm that Sir Dinadin wore a thousand years ago.  
  
"What is it, my pet?" Argus Filch, the bitter Hogwarts caretaker, said with a creaky voice. He appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Trevor knew that he had not Apparated, for the toad had read Hogwarts: A History, which explained that the use of such magic was impossible within the boundaries of the school grounds. More likely, Filch had just used one of the many secret passages within the castle. Mrs. Norris meowed and did a figure eight around the ankles of the shiny armor. Filch inspected the armor, but saw nothing amiss. If Peeves or one of the nasty little students had sabotaged it in anyway, the caretaker could not figure out how. "Come, my love, let's get back to the office. There are no students out and about tonight. They fear the High Inquisitor much too much for that kind of foolery. Professor Sprout gave me some fresh catnip..."  
  
Trevor listened as the caretaker's footsteps faded into the distance. He waited several minutes to be sure that the coast was clear before he came out of his hiding place. He carefully climbed down the suit of armor and continued to make his way down the corridor, the letter still gripped firmly in his mouth. Finally he came to the door he was looking for. Trevor flattened himself like a pancake and squeezed through the crack between the stone floor and the thick wooden door. The office was nothing like what he imagined. Lace was draped over the desk and shelves. There were dried flowers in vases decorated with pastel colored images of bows and seashells. Trevor, like most toads, did not have much of a sense for interior decoration, so the feeling that he had just stepped into the home of an old maid was lost on him. He was also very excited. He could have just hopped into the Chamber of Secrets and his happiness would not have faded, for he was close to completing his quest. He climbed up on the desk, which had a neat pile of essays stacked on it along with a jar of bright pink flamingo quills. He placed the scroll in plain sight on the desk, and looked around for a good place to hide. He wanted to see the reaction that the letter caused.  
  
The toad decided the best place to hide was behind a collection of plates that decorated one of the walls. Trevor was somewhat displeased at the selection of animals that served as decoration in the room. Apart from the seashells on the vases, there was an overrepresentation of cats and kittens. The ornamental plates were decorated with the latter. He was distressed to see a complete lack of toads or any other amphibians, for that matter. He wondered why. Why did some women have such an unhealthy fixation for cats? These were not happy thoughts, and he ended up sleeping fitfully, squashed behind a particularly ghastly plate, which bore a picture of a kitten with huge, blue eyes.  
  
A bleak morning dawned. The sun was hidden behind a thick layer of gray clouds, which threatened a downpour that very well might flood the lake into the Forbidden Forest. Trevor awoke to the click of a key in the lock of the door. Professor Umbridge oozed into her office and flopped into the chair behind her desk. She hummed a tune, perhaps "Mary had a Little Lamb," but toads were notoriously tone deaf, so Trevor couldn't be sure. She fumbled around in her voluminous purse. Trevor was startled to see that the bag was unmistakably made from the skin of a couatl, an extremely rare benevolent winged snake that inhabits Mexico. He remembered the hypnotic twisting picture of the couatl he saw in Neville's textbook, The Monster Book of Monsters. The feathers on its wings had an iridescent quality that made them appear to be all colors of the rainbow. It, the purse, must have been a gift. Surely Professor Umbridge would never support the slaughter of such a magnificent beast by barbarically purchasing such an item.  
  
Professor Umbridge found what she sought: a small compact. She liberally covered her face with puffy makeup, which Trevor found to be completely unnecessary. She was already beautiful without it! Her large bulbous brown eyes had the faintest hint of amber. Her wide mouth nearly stretched from ear to ear, and her purple tongue occasionally protruded from between her thin lips, as if it had a mind of its own. Her squat, pleasingly plump figure was near-perfect. If her legs were a bit longer, she would be perfect, but Trevor did not hold that against her. He certainly wasn't perfect; his right foreleg turned inward, which took its toll on his self-esteem. Professor Umbridge looked in the mirror of the compact and surveyed her work. She picked up her wand, blasted a couple of stray hairs that curled out of one of her chins off, and clicked the compact shut. She stuffed it back in her bag, and noticed the scroll on her desk.  
  
Trevor's heart raced, and he held his breath. The moment had come. Professor Umbridge unrolled the parchment, and her eyes narrowed with every line she read. Her complexion changed as well. Her face, normally the color and texture of dough, changed to an ugly shade of crimson. Trevor wasn't alarmed, because his own coloring changed to match his environment (he was mottled gray at the moment, to match the stonewall). He wondered what function turning the color of an overripe tomato served, however. Surely it could not be for camouflage.  
  
The High Inquisitor grabbed a small box, and tossed a pinch of glittering powder from it into the fire. The flames turned green, and she stuck her head into them. Trevor croaked with surprise, for her head completely disappeared, but then he recalled Mrs. Longbottom using Floo powder, and deduced that Professor Umbridge had done the same. Within seconds she pulled her head out of the fireplace and sat back at her desk. She wore an expression of anger mingled with sorrow. She sat with her sausage-like fingers intertwined on the desk, waiting impatiently. A couple of minutes passed before there was a knock on the door.   
  
"Come in!" croaked Professor Umbridge with a hoarse voice. In stomped Argus Finch. Mrs. Norris was not with him. Presumably she was slinking around the castle, her eyes peeled for rule-breaking students. Umbridge gestured for him to sit, and he slouched into the chair opposite her. She cut right to the heart of the matter.  
  
"Argus, read this, and tell me which students you suspect may have written this," she fumed. Argus squinted, and held the parchment close to his crooked nose. He began to read, quietly out loud:  
  
"My Dearest Dolores,  
Over the past few months, I have come to only one conclusion: I love you. I find you beautiful, an enchantress of the most amphibious quality. Your eyes are like brown orbs, the color of rich soil from which only the juiciest worms come. There is a twinkle in your eyes, too, like the bright sun shining off of glistening mud.  
My love for you, sweet Dolores, runs deeper than the Amazon River, from whence I trace my family line. I have never known love like this. All I have ever met have been common garden toads, which are nice, but they lack the intellect I need to compliment beauty. After watching you in action, I've come to yearn for your mind.  
I respect how deeply you care for the students. Clearly you have their well being in mind, which is why you protect them from the inherent dangers of the Dark Arts while simultaneously educating them on it. You are the first D.A.D.A. instructor who has demonstrated such care and competence. I admire your strength of character.  
I love you Dolores, mind, body, and soul. I can only hope you can find it in your heart to love me in return.  
Yours truly,  
Trevor the Toad"  
  
Filch finished reading the letter. He looked at Professor Umbridge, searching for some sign of what his reaction should be. She shook; her double chins rippled like when a stone is cast into a pond. Her wrath seemed about to explode. With a shuddering breath, she mastered herself, and to Trevor's great surprise tears welled up in her beautiful eyes, leaving shiny wet trails behind, as if slugs had just crawled down her cheeks.  
  
"Who would dare write such a thing, Argus?" whispered Professor Umbridge. Her normally girlishly sweet voice was gone. In its place was the raspy voice of a person on the brink of hysterical sobs. "I want names. I want to know how they found out that when I was in Hogwarts students teased me unmercifully by calling me...me...Delores Toadasaurus! 'Amphibious quality,' how they dare.... I want names of suspects Filch, and I will see if any of their relatives were tormentors in my days here! I thought I had left this all behind." She whispered the last almost to herself, but Filch caught what she said.  
  
"Dolores, you were not the only one who was an outcast when growing up." Filch was a Squib, born into a wizarding family, but without the ability to perform magic. "I know what it feels like to be laughed at. To have no friends."  
  
"To cry yourself to sleep at night," Umbridge blubbered.  
  
"To never have someone love you," wept Filch.  
  
"Our time has come, Argus!" Professor Umbridge shouted suddenly. She slammed her fist down on the desk, making her jar of flamingo quills jump. "No more will we be the objects of ridicule. No more will we be powerless. We are going to seize control here, and vengeance will be ours. Get ready Mr. Filch, the winds of change are blowing in Hogwarts!" Filch leapt to his feet, and they shook hands. An unholy alliance was forged. This is not what Trevor the Toad had in mind. His heart went out to her; he shared the tears she shed, for he could understand her pain as well.   
  
"I can think of two names already who very well might have done this," Filch was saying. "Fred and George Weasley. Those two have been troublemakers since the first day they set foot in Hogwarts. They have no respect for me, nor do they respect the rules. Plus, if I'm not mistaken, Trevor the Toad is a nasty little pet of the Longbottom boy, who's in their House. Oh, how I'd like to flay them alive!"  
  
"Oh, Argus, this is perfect! Not only will we get revenge on those wicked, heartless brutes, but we'll also expel them. That will be a heavy blow to that Muggle-loving fool, Arthur Weasley. Cornelius Fudge will be pleased by that!"   
  
No! Trevor thought. This is going all wrong. The Weasley twins, no, no, no! He squeezed one of his little feet into a balled fist, so frustrated he was. How could they so thoroughly misunderstand his letter? Trevor could see opportunity slipping from his grasp. Instead of stoking the fires of love, his letter backfired, and lit the inferno of hate within Professor Umbridge. Filch and Umbridge enjoyed a cup of tea together. The bell sounded, and Umbridge bustled off to go teach Defense Against the Dark Arts while Filch had an appointment with a malfunctioning shower in Ravenclaw Tower. For some reason, butterbeer was coming out of the showerhead instead of water.  
  
Trevor left the office soon after. He hopped dejectedly toward Professor Flitwick's class, where he intended to meet Neville in the afternoon. A few hours later, the rest of the Gryffindor fifth years had all arrived, but Neville was nowhere to be seen. Trevor hopped onto an empty seat, hoping that his presence there would indicate that Neville had been there on time, but had to duck out of the classroom to hit the water closet. Class started, and Professor Flitwick told the students to pick up either a raven or a bullfrog, for they would be practicing Silencing Charms. Trevor did not like the look of the bullfrogs. They seemed to have a superior attitude about them, when they were just big, stupid bullies. The toad was in a foul mood.  
  
"Sorry I'm late, Professor Flitwick, I forgot my wand," said an out-of-breath Neville when he finally stumbled into the lesson, ten minutes late. Professor Flitwick, a kindly little wizard, smiled and told Neville to take a frog. Neville did so, and looked for a place to sit. He spied the empty table at which his toad sat.  
  
"Trevor!" Cried Neville joyously. It had been at least two days since they had seen each other. Neville happily scooped up his pet and placed him on top of his head, Trevor's preferred perch. Professor Flitwick took time to instruct Neville one on one, for the boy needed it. Come on, you're better than that, thought Trevor as Neville's Silencing Charm caused the bullfrog to let out a thunderous croak.  
  
When Charms ended, they walked down the corridor, surrounded by his peers yet alone among them. Neville continued to mutter the word "Silencio" with the dim hope he would remember it. Trevor rode on Neville's head, deep in thought. How could he convince Professor Umbridge that he wrote her the letter in earnest? They returned to dormitory, where Neville fed Trevor some mealworms. Trevor wasn't a big fan of mealworms, but he had eaten little more than a couple of spiders over the past two days, so any food was pretty welcome. The toad could see the sky darken outside the window. It was the end of a disappointingly eventful day.  
  
That night Trevor lay awake, racking his brain for a new idea on how to win Dolores's love. He concluded that another letter pouring out his heart would do no good. She would, for some reason, take a toad's love as some kind of malicious prank once more. He needed to change his tactics. A new plan began to hatch in Trevor's head. He would have to brave the lair of his least favorite being, but surely Dolores was worth such risk.


End file.
